


Pathogenic Evidence

by Macx



Series: Denuo [52]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The weather is horrible, it's cold, it's dark, and the crime scene doesn't make it any better. Nick wonders if he can ever get warm again</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pathogenic Evidence

 

He was cold.

Terribly, terribly cold.

The cold had seeped through his clothes, into his skin, soaking him through and through. His muscles ached, his bones creaked in protest, just like his joints.

And he was cold.

His fingers were stiff and slightly numb. Cold. He wasn't blue yet, but not far from it. At least in his opinion.

Everything was cold.

The wind had picked up, biting into the clothes, the jeans and the jacket, trying to steal more warmth from him.

The rain had abated, now just a light drizzle, but even those droplets were like ice on his already cold and numbing skin.

Nick Stokes looked around the dreary site, taking in the yellow crime scene tape that seemed to be the only spec of color. Everything else was gray and brown. The crime site was in the middle of nowhere, with broken tree branches lying around, old stumps and tree roots making it hard to walk without stumbling, and the ground was slippery and soft from all the rain. He had driven out here in this rain, cursing the foul weather, and while he had dressed for the cold, even warm clothes stopped protecting the body against it after a while.

This wasn't the Arctic. He didn't need zero temperature gear and he didn't need anti-freeze, unless the crime site was… so remote and the weather was so bad. Sometimes, it sucked to be on call.

The shallow grave with the bones that had been discovered by a hiker was awash in muddy water. Who was hiking in that weather anyway? Survivalists? Nick had waited for the coroner and then cleaned the bones from the debris, bagged them, tagged them, and sent David off to do his job in the safe and dry pathology labs. With no immediate danger, the police had recalled one squad car, and the second had been sent home by Nick himself after he had made his rounds.

The rain had picked up by then again and he had called it quits. Hours in the freezing cold and rain had told him nothing. The site was ancient, all trace already washed away by the frequent rain falls throughout the years. He would sift through what debris he had additionally bagged back at the lab, but out here, he was done.

And he was cold.

So terribly, terribly cold.

The car's heater was on full blast, but aside from making his slowly reviving skin sting, it didn't do much for the bone-deep cold.

Nick shivered and turned the heat up to full.

It took over an hour to get back to the city limits and another thirty minutes to just reach the PD through the evening traffic. By the time he got out of the stifling hot car, he hadn't really stopped shivering and feeling fold. His fingers refused to warm any more than they already had. If he had touched Catherine, she would have given a yell of shock. Any warm-blooded being probably would.

Picking up his evidence bags, he trudged into the building, intent on delivering everything, then setting off for home to take a long, very hot shower.

Warmth sounded so wonderful.

As it was, he was way-laid by Warrick first, then ran into Catherine, who wanted a preliminary, and then David caught up with him to deliver the news that the results of the bones would take a while due to the state of decay.

Wonderful.

Massaging his chilled fingers, Nick finally made it out of the PD and back to his car. It didn't help his near-frozen state that the wind had picked up. The news on the radio that it was a storm coming in tonight didn't warm him up either. All he wanted was to get home, crank up the heat, a hot shower, a mug of scalding hot tea, and his bed. Preferably with Grissom, but Gil was out of town for two days on business. So he had to make due with thick woollen blankets and more tea.

Nick sighed.

What a day…

* * *

The house was dark and cold when he entered and Nick immediately switched on the lights, turned up the heat, and went into the bedroom to undress. The shower was like a miracle cure for the worst chills, though the cold deep inside wouldn't budge.

Nick scrubbed himself dry, relishing the rush of blood to the stimulated skin, and quickly bundled up. He found the water heater ready and poured himself a large mug of tea, then crawled into bed. The mattress, the soft cover, the cocoon of warmth, began to relax him and he switched on the small TV. He followed the program with half an eye, still trying to warm his feet and hands, and finally began to doze off.

* * *

Grissom had taken a rental home, driving all the way from San Diego after a mind-numbing seminar that had held little informational value. He had been there representing the second-best lab in the country, had given two lectures, and had listened to the only lecture that had actually been of a modicum of interest to him. He had bid farewell before noon, deciding to skip the last boring hours and instead get home.

This had been a waste of time.

He had told Ecklie so, repeatedly, before leaving. Grissom understood that someone from Las Vegas had to come, and since Catherine was in the middle of a big case, he had been chosen. Still, it had been an expensive waste of time.

Oh well. Water under the bridge.

Walking into the dark house, Grissom frowned a little at the silence. It was only past ten and normally Nick would be up, watching TV or reading, or something like it.

But there was no sign of his partner.

Except for the bedroom.

Walking into the room, Gil stopped for a moment, a fond smile crossing his features. Nick lay curled up on his side, facing the opposite wall, apparently asleep. The TV was running on a very low volume, showing commercials, and a mug was next to Stokes on the night stand. Grissom could smell the lingering scent of shampoo and body wash, which told him that Nick had taken a shower.

Quietly putting down the suitcase, Grissom then walked around the bed and squatted down before his lover, studying the half-hidden features. Nick had truly buried himself in the cover. Running a gentle hand over the smooth forehead, he felt the warmth of the skin seep in.  
Suddenly dark eyes blinked open, gazing sleepily at him.

"Y're home," Nick mumbled.

"Yes. Sorry to wake you."

"Wasn't sleepin'. Dozin'."

"Okay."

"Y're cold."

Grissom smiled more. "It's a rather cold night."

"Know that. Was workin' a cold day… 'm cold."

That explained the early bed time and the snuggling.

"Mind if I join you?" Gil asked softly, playing with a strand of hair.

"Go get warm first."

He chuckled. "Won't you warm me up?"

"Just got this place warm. Not goin' t'let you freeze it again," came the mumble, the dark eyes flashing a warning.

Grissom knew when not to argue. He had had his cold days at crime sites and he knew that once the cold had taken a hold, it was too hard to get really warm. A good night's sleep helped tremendously, as well as hot shower, warm tea and maybe some snuggling with a loving partner.

So he took a shower first, warming himself up, and then returned to the bedroom. Nick had already dozed off again and Gil got into bed, studying the tightly rolled up figure. No chance of Nick surrendering the blanket, he decided, and used his own to cover his legs and hips. He didn't feel tired and he chose his book to read from. Settling comfortably against the headrest, he relaxed into his book.  
   
 

It was an hour later that he put it down, looking at Nick, who was by now deeply asleep. He had moved a little and the cover had come loose. Gil placed the book on his night stand and carefully pried the loose end further away from the sleeping man. It wasn't easy, but also not very hard, and he soon lay close to his partner's slender form, relishing the heat radiating off it.

Nick mumbled something and moved again, curling close to the familiar form of Gil Grissom, moulding himself to the sturdier body.

"Nice," came the brief and content sigh, then Nick was asleep again.

Grissom smiled and pressed a kiss onto the short hair.

He fell asleep not much later, Nick in his arms.

* * *

Nick woke slowly. He was wrapped up in warmth, curled up on his side, snuggling like a small child against a heat source. Not really heat but warmth.

Human warmth.

Breathing, living warmth.

He smelled the unmistakable scent of his partner, of Gil, and he listened to the soft breaths. Nick didn't know when his lover had climbed into bed with him or when they had ended up like the survivors of an Arctic safari, snuggled together, him with his head against Gil's chest, but he felt completely relaxed and at peace in that position.

There was a little shift, muscles moving under skin, and a puff of air as Grissom woke. A hand stroked over his head and Nick involuntarily made a little noise of approval.

"Good morning," Grissom whispered into his ear, then kissed the warm lobe.

The contact of damp lips against his skin made Nick shiver. He turned his head, blinking his eyes open, and looked into the expressive blue eyes of his lover.

Gil smiled. "Awake?"

"No," he mumbled.

"I see. Coffee?"

"You make?"

Grissom chuckled. "Strong?"

"Very."

The living warmth rolled away from him and Nick curled up on the spot of mattress Grissom had vacated, soaking up the left-over warmth. He heard the rustle of clothes as his lover dressed, then there was silence. With a sigh, he took inventory.

He still felt the chill deep inside, but it wasn't as bad as yesterday. His feet and toes were no longer blocks of ice, and his fingers had their feeling  back.

Good.

Now all he had to do was get up, maybe take a shower, and then make it to the kitchen.

He got all of that managed, somehow, within the next ten minutes, though he skipped the shower. That would have meant more coordination.

The smell of coffee was strong in the kitchen and Nick followed it like a scent trail. Grissom was standing next to the kitchen counter as he walked in, dressed in black sweat pants, a black t-shirt and bare footed. He held the coffee out like a offering to appease a god and Nick had to grin at the thought.

After the first nip almost scorched his tongue, he settled to just inhaling the aroma and waiting for the scalding brew to cool.

"Bad night?" Gil asked, holding his own mug.

"Bad day. Rain, cold, old grave. Nothing much to go on, really, and it didn't let up with the rain either." Nick sighed. "I just felt cold through and through."

He tried the coffee again and found it, while still hot, drinkable. And it was strong.

"You in today?" Grissom wanted to know.

Nick shook his head. "No, not until tomorrow. You?"

"I'm on call, but I need to run by the office to give Ecklie a few things from the seminar."

Nick chuckled as he read between the lines. "As bad as you suspected."

Grissom smiled almost angelically. "No, not really."

Nick grinned more. "Worse?"

The blue eyes twinkled. "A lot worse."

"So, when do you want to go in?"

Grissom shrugged.

"How about we drive into town together, you go and nag Ecklie, and we meet for lunch?"

"I don't nag," Grissom corrected him.

Nick chuckled. "Whatever. Lunch?"

His lover nodded and reached out for him, pulling Nick close. "Lunch," he agreed and placed a little kiss on his lips.

The younger man gave a soft hum of approval, returning the kiss. He put the mug aside to get his hand free, no longer caring about the rest of the coffee, as he wrapped his arms around the sturdier form of his partner. Grissom tasted of coffee, just like himself probably did, and the kiss was long and loving and deep. Nipping at his chin, Gil finally separated and stormy, blue eyes met almost black ones.

"Late lunch?" Grissom teased.

Nick laughed softly. "Make it very late."

And then he was on him again, their lips meeting, their bodies sliding together.

It might even be dinner.


End file.
